


calendar

by Runespoor



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: 3 Sentence Ficathon, Alternate Universe, Angst, Bittersweet, Canon-Typical Behavior, Canonical Character Death, F/M, M/M, Possibly Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-11
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:01:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 2,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22669738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Runespoor/pseuds/Runespoor
Summary: a collection of Three Houses fic for the 3 sentence ficathon.1)Felix/Dimitri,"monsters are better at loving than heroes";2)Ingrid/Sylvain, CF,"our hurt is quiet and our hearts tamed";3)Ingrid/Claude, VW,"Thou and I are too wise to woo peaceably";4)Dimitri+Annette,"the family you choose";5)Byleth, time-travel;6)Dimitri+Flèche, AM,send my regards to Hell;7)Sylvain/Felix,"too cold to sleep alone";8)Felix+Ingrid, Pacific Rim AU,we're drift compatible;9)Ingrid+Sylvain+Felix,the sensible one.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Felix Hugo Fraldarius & Ingrid Brandl Galatea, Felix Hugo Fraldarius & Ingrid Brandl Galatea & Sylvain Jose Gautier, Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier, Ingrid Brandl Galatea/Claude von Riegan, Ingrid Brandl Galatea/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 6
Kudos: 59





	1. Felix/Dimitri - "monsters are better at loving than heroes"

" _What do you want from me_ ," Dimitri roars, and in the perpetual shadow of the church the blood streaking his face might be his, from a cut, or from beneath his eyepatch, like it never scarred, or might come from the corpses strewn around; out of the corner of your eye, you can see your brother's glassy-eyed body watching you, younger than you've been for years. You swallow bile, and in the next moment Dimitri's on you, grabbing your arms with beastly strength - " _what do you_ want _from me_ ", he murmurs, so close his breath rasps against your parting lips.

\--you wake up gasping, tangled up in your sheets, your whole body ablaze and furious and needing-- you snarl, and dig the heels of your palms into your eyesockets until your eyes stop burning.


	2. Ingrid/Sylvain - "our hurt is quiet and our hearts tamed"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CF ingrid/sylvain is bittersweet city and i love it
> 
> CF is also home of faerghus character death, so, y'know.

After the war, they hole up in Gautier, to watch over the Sreng frontier, carrying with them memories of fallen friends only they remember, and keep themselves warm with them. The cold and the distance keep away the people whose side they fought by; over the cover of snow, their ghosts are light and ever-present, by turn childhood companions or the friends they betrayed - some days the snow falling from a branch sounds to Ingrid's ears like Felix's body falling from her spear, some mornings Sylvain sucks in sharp breaths when the official message he opens carries the Empress' arms instead of Dimitri's.

They don't keep in touch with the rest of the Empire, weeks turning to months, months to seasons and seasons to years, until they're wedded in winter, when the Lone Moon snows Northern Faerghus in solitude, and each thinks the other beautiful, and tired, and familiar; they never leave Gautier again, and give their children names that would have made Dimitri smile and Felix sniffle.


	3. Ingrid/Claude - "you and I are too wise too woo peacably"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Technically this is four sentences, but Claude thinks parentheses don't count, and I tend to go with Mr Barbarossa when it comes to interpreting the rules in the most beneficial way

After the war, he winks at her and tells her, insouciant in that way that is sure to rub her the wrong way, "you should visit sometime!" and refuses to answer any of her questions - why are you leaving, you saved Fodlan what's there for you in Almyra, Claude answer my questions, why did you keep secrets from your allies, _why are you like this_ \- and smiles when he tells her goodbye.

There are no letters (they've never been close, and Ingrid is busy and Almyra is far; if Claude wrote, she has no doubt he'd find a way for his letters to reach her), but there's an official request for her to act as an ambassador ("I am no diplomat," she protests, but her queen tells her, "the king wants you, specifically", with an expression Ingrid knows better than to try and decipher); Ingrid's unsure she can do the task justice, but she has never met a duty she will not endeavor to perform to the best of her abilities and push herself in so doing, so she packs and goes - she knows hopelessly little about Almyra, so she pens a quick letter to Claude, who lives in the capitol, telling him of her mission and that she'd be grateful if he could show her around during her stay (she can hear his chuckle as she does, light and golden and faintly, annoyingly mocking, like he knows something you don't).

The king of Almyra sprawls in his throne when she's announced into the audience room, and he is dressed in silks golden like laughter and green like lies, and makes a show of straightening up when she comes closer; "hey, Ingrid," Claude greets, lazy and winking and with a smile, "long time no see; glad to have you here."

(only the thought she's here in an official, representative capacity prevents Ingrid from shouting at him right here and there until her cheeks are no longer warm; and what's more, the twinkle in his eyes says he knows it.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let's all hear it for Claude f i n a l l y being able to lead a convo with Ingrid the way he wants and not having it fly wildly out of his control. It only took him 5 years, a crown, and an official mandate to do it; I'm not taking bets that he can replicate the effect at will.


	4. Annette + Dimitri - "the family you choose"

A child's brightly-colored drawing: two stick-figures of children, one with orange hair and a skirt, and the other with yellow hair and a crown, with the words "HAPPY BIRTHDAY DEAR PRINCE DIMITRI!!!" in painstaking child's script; Annette had asked her mother to write a model down, and copied it letter after careful letter, but the exclamation points were her own touch, as were the pink hearts around the two children. In the background, a cheerful, smiling sun, an animal with passing ressemblance to a horse (or maybe a child's understanding of a lion), and three adults - a figure with the same orange hair as the girl, a figure with the same skirt as the girl, and one with a crown, like the boy's, but bigger; the girl stick figure has her arms raised in joy, and all faces are drawn with wide smiles.

If only propriety hadn't stayed Gustave's hand and made him fold the drawing tightly over.


	5. Byleth - multiple time travel fix-its collide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _multiple time travel fix-it shenanigans collide; hijinks ensue_

She's done losing students: she reaches inside and she goes back and back and back, farther than she's ever gone, disregarding the little voice whispering how dangerous it is - before first meetings and the ideal professor, before reliable allies and the future of Fodlan - she yanks on time like a dragon on a chain - past her father with a babe in his arms, past the fire that claimed her first (was it second?) life - and she-- pulls free.

Asleep, the woman who gave birth to her looks younger than most of Byleth's ex-students, which (from the tombstone) she is.

On the other side of the bed, two figures frame the cradle as though they don't know what to do now they're here: a man who could be Byleth's fraternal twin, up to the luminous, god-touched hair, and a woman who looks like Byleth's double, aside from her hair, which is still the same slate-blue as Byleth's once was - they stare at her with the same near-blank expression Byleth sees in her mirror ever morning, and Byleth takes a breath, and prepares to greet them.


	6. Dimitri + Flèche - send my regards to Hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _send my regards to Hell_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: this is about Flèche and Dimitri in AM and it's canon-compliant, so that "canonical character death" tag applies.

Rodrigue shielded him from the girl's sword, but not from her words, and it's only now that Dimitri feels them: it's like being stuck with arrows during battle, and noticing long after the fact, digging in deeper every time Dimitri tries to work them free.

Dimitri sighs and lets his head fall, eyes closing on the ghosts that are always with him - not ignoring, never ignoring; he welcomes their whispers, and isn't surprised that through them are threaded the girl's accusations - it's true; in following his duty to the dead, he's become a monster, like Edelgard is to him.

They've all made their choices, Rodrigue as his shield, the girl as a weapon, and Dimitri as a monster - and if she was an arrow, he aimed it at himself - still, she was brave, and if her attack wasn't honorable, Dimitri's done worse a thousand times over, would have helped her do a thousand times worse in the name of revenge, and if she'd learned Dimitri's not the one who killed her brother in the end she'd still have wanted him dead for standing by the side of the one who did (Dimitri knows this from the inside): whatever afterlife she might crawl to, if there's a hell for avengers, he might join her soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my fave npc in AM is the girl who makes herself into a weapon and lies and betrays and kills all by herself, because _of course she is_ (you're cool, rodrigue, but like. _Flèche_ ;_;)
> 
> the Dimitri/Flèche parallels are my entire life


	7. Sylvain/Felix - too cold to sleep alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> fluff is lava.

Mid-autumn has Felix turn up in Gautier, jacket bloodied (“you had a traitor problem down south,” he says, with an impatient twitch, “I took care of it”) and his eyes tracking every movement, out of the corner of his eye, like he’s forgotten how to rest (by Sylvain’s count from Ingrid’s letters, it’s been about a month and a half since he and Ingrid parted; they’d chased down rumors of a living prince for the full spring and summer, but finally harvest demanded Ingrid back to Galatea) - “I’m ready when you are,” Sylvain says, grabbing his lance, and Felix tsks - “nice try, but I’m already packed, and you’re standing there losing daylight; don’t make me waste my time and get moving.”

Hunting ghosts (one ghost, singular; that Sylvain might want to call Felix’s, but can’t - physically can’t, his throat tightening to almost painful levels when he tries - Sylvain's relationship with Dimitri has never been the all-consuming maelstrom that was the bond of Felix and Dimitri, but Dimitri trusted him, Dimitri looked up to him as older and more worldly, and Sylvain liked that, as much as he liked Dimitri for his ideals and his serious desire to change things) lures them through Gautier during the worst of Red Wolf Moon, when wolves stalk down from the mountains and villagers don’t leave their house alone at night; amid listening for proof that they’re not just fooling themselves out of wishful thinking, Felix and Sylvain give a hand against wolves when they reach a village - at first as themselves, then, when they start skirmishing against Dukedom scouts as well as wolves, incognito - and leave the next day, or the day after, as soon as the weather permits; snow and the peculiar lighting of deep winter draw frozen curtains over their sense of time, winter spread eternal into an endless repetition of days spent walking, watching the inky swirl of Felix’ ponytail whipping in the wind (longer than Felix usually keeps it, but not as long yet as his brother did; next time Felix sees a clear reflective surface - might be springtime - he’ll hack it off), and nights sleeping in a cocoon of their two blankets, arms and legs woven together, by a fire Sylvain conjured.

There are few words on their journey; perhaps because they’re not needed, perhaps because the words they say might be stolen by the cold and lost to the winter forever, or perhaps, because a frozen lake can only take so much weight, before it breaks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> #itsabouttheyearning


	8. Felix + Ingrid - drift compatible

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pacific Rim AU.

"No," Felix says - glaring at his father, glaring at his father's golden girl - both looking at him like, like-- Ingrid's determined face resolves into a ghost of Glenn's expression, and Felix _can't_.

Ingrid unclenches her jaw after Felix fled the room - not quite breaking into a run; going for the training grounds, where he'll punch dummies until his knuckles bleed - "I'll find him."

"I know you will," Marshall Fraldarius sighs; when she leaves the room, he's massaging his eyes, the bags under his eyes looking more prominent than usual, and Ingrid averts her gaze on her way out.


	9. Ingrid+Sylvain+Felix - the sensible one

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _insisting that they're the sensible one in the group right as they do something colossally stupid_

They meet up somewhere between Galatea and Charon, in the middle of a skirmish between loyalist troops and Dukedom traitors, which ends swiftly with the victory of the side boasting three Relics - or, more accurately, two Relics and a Major Crest; Felix never had much use for his family’s Shield - and soon enough they’re playing catch up, which mostly involves Ingrid yelling at Sylvain for the risks he carelessly implies he’s taken to make it that far south since celebrating the Founding Day in Gautier (which, talking about risks: if Ingrid wasn’t as good as dodging as she is, would be hugely hypocritical, but then again, if Ingrid wasn’t as good as dodging as she is - well, Sylvain doesn’t like entertaining this line of thought, at all), and Ingrid berating Felix for never writing to let them know what he’s up to (“honestly, Felix, if you’d just consent to tell us where you were, so we could help--”), and it’s familiar, Sylvain thinks, stretching his arms languidly to cross his fingers behind his head - familiar, and comforting - soon enough Felix will snap back and she’ll fall silent, and Sylvain will take up the burden of filling Ingrid and Felix’ usual tense silence, and slip into the comfortable role of the jester again.

It’s nice - comforting and familiar like few things are since the war broke out, and familiarity became synonym with danger, and comfort synonym with lies - and he lets himself be lulled into it for a few moments more, when a bit of Ingrid’s tirade snags his attention - “wait, what’s that about needing to pick up the rhythm before your father sends a courier - did you - Ingrid, did you leave without telling your father?”

Ingrid’s shoulders hunch, and Felix’ eyebrows do the complicated thing they do when he’s reminded of other people’s own complicated relationships with their father (mostly Ingrid’s, Sylvain’s noticed), and Sylvain finds himself gaping as Ingrid starts to explain, in a halting, defensive tone Sylvain would expect from _Felix_ , that “it wasn’t my first choice, but - well, my father is very stubborn--” Felix’ eyebrows shoot up in indignant incredulity, and he shoots Sylvain a look that can’t possibly mean anything else than _are you hearing this_ , which, yeah, Sylvain feels that a lot, but Ingrid’s not done talking, voice growing in confidence as she keeps listing all her perfectly reasonable reasons for her _running off during wartime_ “--and House Galatea is officially neutral, so I couldn’t ask for his blessing, so I left; I’m certain he knows where I’ve gone, I’m - well, we all know I’m no good at dissembling; I am planning on sending him a letter once we’ve made it closer to Garreg Mach,” she finishes, voice grown confident again, and it’s only seeing Felix stare at her with a mix of awe and deep, profound annoyance at her total hypocrisy over the risks involved, that keeps Sylvain from losing himself to flashbacks of childhood memories, and from wrapping daring Ingrid and reluctant Felix into a hug of childhood past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> acknowledge Ingrid's total lack of sensibleness despite her confusing basic manners with being sensible 2k20


End file.
